


Mini Pancakes

by Toixx_nimpark



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Soft Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Is Bad at Feelings, but he tries, sexual undertones but nothing explicit, they talk about vampire things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 09:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19989835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toixx_nimpark/pseuds/Toixx_nimpark
Summary: Simon Snow is looking for a distraction from editing his essay when a sleepy Baz walks in





	Mini Pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> This took two days longer than I was expecting but having a cardboard cutout of Baz Pitch watching me write inspire another 2k words from me. Right now I just wanted soft Simon and Baz. But, as always, I hope it wasn't too out of character.

Simon sat on Penny’s mum’s old sofa, with his back facing the hallway that led to his and Penny’s rooms. He was fiddling with an assignment on his laptop, tweaking the conclusion every so often. In all honesty, he was just putting off submitting it to the professor. 

He was looking for a distraction. But Penny was busy visiting her home. (She worked with her father when she had free time.) And Baz was sleeping in Simon’s room, exhausted after a weekend at his parents’ manor. He was always tired after those visits. Baz never told him what exactly they talked to him about when he was there, but he would always come up with an excuse for not inviting him to go along. 

When he heard soft footsteps, Simon eagerly whipped around to look for him. Like a dragon who spotted a shiny object in tall grass. Baz was wearing his joggers and one of his old football shirts from Watford. His eyes were glazed over with sleep and his hair was an absolute mess. Simon didn’t know how his younger self never noticed how endearing post-sleep Baz was. 

He languidly wrapped his arms around Simon’s shoulders, minding the wings, and started pressing soft kisses to his neck. 

“Need something, love?” He hummed. Simon’s heart thumped harder when he felt lips against his pulse. He wondered if doing that ever tempted Baz. He also wondered if he would ever be truly willing to feed Baz. Saying that he’d do that if it was needed is so much more different than actually doing it. 

Baz sighed against his skin, and his breath was warm. “Did you happen to pick up those mini pancakes when you went out earlier, Snow?” 

“You’ve called me Simon before.” 

That earned a groan, and Baz elegantly jumped over the back of the sofa to sit close to Simon. He was relaxed and soft from his nap. No sharp curses or poise could be seen. 

“And I regret it every time,” he complained but attached himself closer to Simon’s side. He stared at his face with direct eye contact in a way that was reminiscent of their school years. Simon still couldn’t tell if he wanted to snog him or kick him. 

“Do you want me to make you some?” 

Baz hummed, face scrunching up in confusion. 

Simon rolled his eyes. “Mini pancakes, dummy.” 

He looked affronted. “Don’t call me that. I’m your boyfriend.” 

“I specifically remember an insult given a few weeks ago when I forgot to pick you up from class. What was it again? Oh right, ‘scone-for-brains’.” 

Baz stops him by kissing the corner of his mouth. Like the little shit he was. He knew how weak Simon was for him, and Simon knew how weak Baz was for him. They were so weak for each other. 

“That was a long time ago,” he said against his face. “Make me mini pancakes, Snow. I refuse to move from this cushion.” He sat back again and gestured to the laptop. “I’ll read over your essay if you’d like.” 

Simon raised an eyebrow and stood from the couch, handing over the laptop. He groaned as his wings stretched. Free editing was free editing, right. (Although not that free if the payment was mini pancakes.) “I don’t know how you still remain so spoiled after moving out of your gothic castle.” 

“It’s a _manor,_ Snow. And you truly underestimate what a life of luxury does to a boy.” He flipped his messy hair, and just the absurdity of it made Simon snort. 

“Not so much of a boy anymore,” he smirked and pushed Baz’s knee playfully, relishing in the red that rose on those high cheekbones. He must’ve fed at his parents’ place. 

Never did Baz like feeding in front of Simon. Not _in that_ _way,_ at least. But he started noticing in recent weeks that he was growing more comfortable with letting his fangs out. Simon couldn’t feel threatened by them, even if they were pressed against his wrists. If anything, he just felt overflowed with showing how much he trusted Baz. Simon would do anything to show off that trust. 

Penny decorated the kitchen when they moved in. A lot of it was mage stuff; crystal ball next to the toaster, cookbooks infused with magic, even some ingredients to one project or another she was working on. It was a comfort surrounded by these objects, in a way. Even though he didn’t have any magic of his own anymore, Simon would never forget it. It was these little reminders that connected him with Baz and Penny in a way that he never could truly connect again. 

Shaking off that train of thought, Simon opened the freezer to take out the box of pancakes. “Do you want chocolate syrup or maple?” He yelled in the direction of the living room. 

“Chocolate!” Then he mumbled something like, “Shouldn’t you know this by now…” 

If Simon rolled his eyes as much as he wanted to when he heard things like this, he’s sure they would roll out of his skull. He heated up two plates and drizzled them generously in chocolate syrup. He made sure to add powdered sugar to Baz’s plate. The man had a serious sweet tooth, so when he requested chocolate Simon usually indulged in that request. 

He was quite proud of the presentation. The sound of his keyboard clacking filled the silence of the apartment, along with Baz’s exasperated sighs every so often when he came across an error in the assignment. Simon considered taking out the box of raspberries in the fridge just to feel more like a chef and not some university student who microwaved mini pancakes. He would’ve used Nutella if Penny hadn’t scraped the jar clean with a spoon after a tragic romance movie. But chocolate syrup would have to do. 

Simon put Baz’s plate on the coffee table and sat back next to him. Like a magnet, Baz scooted closer to him, even hugged his knees a little closer to accommodate for the laptop. He seemed to be almost done. Like the overachiever he was at Watford. His ‘Top of the Class’ attitude was showing again and all Simon could do to distract himself from poking at that particular aspect of his ego was stuff his face with the pancakes. 

Baz sent a grimace at his display. “Please leave room to inhale, mouth-breather.” 

“Like you can talk,” he mumbled through his bite. “Don’t think I don’t notice how weak your knees get when I put my mouth anywhere near you.” 

He wiped a crumb off of the corner of Simon’s lip. “Very charming, Snow. And I’ll dispute that later when I’m not distracted by your atrocious grammar.” 

“It’s not like there were any real grammar lessons at Watford, _Basilton_.” He over-enunciated his full name. “Not all of us can have a private tutor at age seven to teach us the grammar of six different languages.” 

“ _Stultus,_ ” Baz deadpanned, and Simon scowled. 

He stuffed another forkful of pancake in his mouth. Definitely needed to look up whatever that meant later. Google was useful when it came to translating Baz’s insults. 

The soft edge of sleep that Baz carried earlier disappeared when he got into editing mode. 

Simon couldn’t say he didn’t miss it, but he also adored the back and forth between them. Like a verbal game of fast-paced ping pong. Trying to one-up each other, which usually ended with one or the other pouting in defeat. Before— 

Baz turned and swooped him into a kiss, hands cradling his cheeks to keep him there. He obviously was waiting for Simon to finish the bite. Neither of them was very fond of baby-birding into each other’s mouth. Even just the thought made his stomach twist uncomfortably so he banished the thought from his mind to enjoy the kiss. 

Not-so-sneakily, Baz let go of his face to slip the laptop back into Simon’s hands. He pecked Simon on the forehead. 

“Thank you for making me pancakes, Snow,” he amended their dispute and kissed him again. 

He watched Baz pick up his plate and moan in an almost obscene way when he took his first bite. (And of course, it was a _dainty_ and _proper_ bite.) His mouth filled out slightly with his fangs. Simon remembered when Baz first showed them to him. How long and cool they had looked. That hadn’t changed, but their coolness was now something to be expected and not a novelty. 

“Would you ever bite me?” He blurted out before he could think and immediately regretted it. After all Baz had told him about his mother and given him a glimpse of how much he loathes what he is. _Great job,_ he berated himself as Baz stopped mid-bite. 

Baz set down his fork and set his jaw. It wasn’t like when Simon did it. When Baz set his jaw it felt like he was trying not to immediately hex someone for what they said to him. Simon felt his guilt settle in. He tried rubbing his hand into Baz’s knee, and while he didn’t push it away, the stiffness in his muscles was not leaving. 

There weren’t any words passed between them for a good few moments. Just the gentle massaging of Simon’s hand on his leg. 

Dark hair fell into his face as his head lowered ever so slightly, and Simon prayed to anyone who would listen that he hadn’t just pushed him away. 

“Never, Simon,” he finally spoke, voice hoarse. “I can’t even think about doing that to you without feeling sick.” 

“I’m sorry. I know how sensitive this topic is to you, Baz.” He didn’t speak for a moment, hoping his apology would settle some of the tension in the room. 

_Here we go,_ he thought. “I know you’d never do that. But I want you to know that if we were ever in a situation where you had no other option, and I mean it Baz,” he gave him a stern look, making sure to meet his eyes, “then I don’t want you to feel guilty for feeding on me.” 

“Simon—”

“No Baz.” He pushed the laptop to the coffee table and set down the plate on top of it. “I’m not negotiating this. If you need it, I will give it to you.” 

The idea of exchanging that kind of trust, that kind of power, exhilarated him. It reminded him of being in their dorm room at the very top of Mummer’s House, grasping Baz’s cold hands. As they watched the universe be created around them. Feeling the power, the magic, flow between them always made Simon feel at home. 

He just barely grabbed Baz by his chin, free of any stubble, and pulled him closer. Looked at him in his eyes, watched the vulnerability dance in them. 

“How do you do this to me, Simon?” He breathed. “I used to pride myself on being calm and collected around you. But it seems I was never very good at hiding my true feelings.” 

“Aww, it’s not your fault,” he spoke with a smile in his tone. “I’ve always been pretty good at getting a rise out of people.” 

Baz scoffed. “That could not be farther from the truth. From what I remember, it was you who was always going off.” 

Simon laughed and let go of his chin, pushing him away slightly. “Dick,” he insulted fondly. The tense air wasn’t fully dissolved around them, but it was far lighter. Baz still had a vacant gleam in his eye, but his smile was genuine. “Eat your pancakes. I slaved over a hot stove for these.” 

“Doubt that.” But he took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Thank you for that, Simon. I appreciate it.” 

He pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and ate a bite that made his jaw pop. “No problem, babe.” Baz watched, almost fascinated. (To see if he would choke, no doubt.)

Babe was new. Terms of endearment didn’t come naturally to either of them; insults were much better suited for their style. But in intimate moments like these, Simon couldn’t help himself. Last month he tried out ‘honey,’ but he got far too many puns about sweetness and the stickiness of it. Enough to make him blush and to last him a lifetime of Baz’s dirty mind. 

Since the Fall of the Mage (that’s seriously how magic news outlets were calling that day), Baz would call him ‘darling.’ He’d whisper it into his hair, before kissing his lips, across the table when they went out to eat on date nights. 

Baz turned on the television across from them to watch a reality show while they ate. They were watching two wealthy women scream at each other. 

“Mordelia misses harassing me with you,” he opened up, still not looking at Simon. 

He sighed happily. Mordelia was Baz’s little sister. She loved to tease Baz with him, but she also had a knack for walking in on them at the most inopportune times. That also might be one of the contributing factors as to why he doesn’t take Simon with him to the manor. She definitely looked less evil than Baz, but that was just to lure him into a false sense of security. 

Baz’s family was strange. But maybe that was mean to say, so he didn’t. Or maybe Baz would wholeheartedly agree. 

“Maybe I could come over for Christmas. Remind your family that you _do_ actually have a boyfriend.” 

His boyfriend looked at the ceiling, deep in thought. “Although I agree that they purposefully ignore the fact that I am not only a vampire but a gay vampire, I think it’s more the fact that you were once the Chosen One that doesn’t sit well with them.” He looked at him, frowning. “And I thought you hated having dinner with my family?” 

“Well, yes,” Simon rolled his eyes. “But that’s mainly because I always feel stupid. I don’t know what dumb little spoon I should eat my soup with, I didn’t grow up posh like you!” 

They chuckled a little together, and Simon continued. “Besides, it’s not like I’m the Chosen One anymore. You Grimm-Pitches just don’t know how to move on from every little thing.”

Baz smirked at him like he was going to bring up something embarrassing. “ _I choose you, Simon_.” He laughed meanly at Simon’s scowl. “And you shouldn’t feel stupid about having dinner at my house. You have better manners than my siblings.” A quiet ‘though you still eat like a dog’ didn’t go unnoticed. 

“Your siblings are all under the age of eleven, Baz!” 

A woman was screeching at another for supposedly insulting her daughter on the television. Simon felt his wings shuffle, protesting at how long they were pressed up against the sofa cushions for. His tail almost never had such complaints. Baz noticed his discomfort and massaged his lower back, right above his tail, to ease his discomfort. 

Baz finished his pancakes and set the empty plate down on the coffee table, choosing to wrap his arms around Simon’s middle and watch the show with his head resting in the crook of his neck. Still soft, then. He’d probably drag Simon to his bed before the afternoon was over. Though he wouldn’t have to try hard to get him to go to bed with him. 

He shivered as he felt warm breath against his skin and set his chin on Baz’s hair. There were tiny kisses being pressed against the moles on his neck. 

Penny wasn’t here. Baz felt comfortable with being so bold in the living room. If she were here, he wouldn’t be half this clingy. The most he’d get is an arm around his shoulders. _“I have a reputation to uphold, Snow,_ ” he’d say whenever Simon asked. 

Might as well enjoy it while he can. 

Simon set his empty plate next to Baz’s and looked at his essay. It looked better now that he had it edited. He smiled when he saw the snarky comments on the sides of the document. 

His hands were itching to do something. He closed the laptop and pushed it out of his lap. One of his favorite pastimes was threading his fingers through Baz’s thick, silky hair. He decided to indulge. Despite asking many times what shampoo he used, Baz never let him in on the secret. 

The vampire _melted_ under his touch, and Simon wondered how on earth he thought Baz could ever kill him. Every time he got Baz to be like this, his heart felt full. He remembered being filled with magic, but instead of magic, it was pure affection for the other man. It felt nice after a life of feeling out of control in every aspect of his life, to be able to achieve finding his boyfriend’s weak spots and turn him into putty. 

“Penny should be home soon,” he whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder it would break the spell he had Baz under. He felt more than heard him hum in content. “We should probably head to my bedroom unless you want her to see you like this.” 

Like this. Like a kitten, stretched out in a spot of warm sunlight. Open and vulnerable, belly up. 

Baz takes a deep breath and props himself up, looking like it pained him to do so. He allowed Simon to stand and pull him up by his forearms. Allowed him to further drag him down the hall and into his room. 

Never did Simon have a room to decorate. In homes, they don’t let you personalize the rooms, especially since Simon would only be staying there for the summer. But even boys who had to stay there all year long hardly got to add posters and knick-knacks. So he never had anything to bring back to Watford when he returned for school. He didn’t even really like making the shared room personal; he liked using the official school design. Made him feel like he belonged. (Baz teased him relentlessly about it.)

Moving in with an interior decorator like Penny meant that this old lifestyle choice had to change. She took him to every furniture store she could think of to fill his room. Her mum agreed with her wholeheartedly, said something about a “fresh start.” Everything in his room was personalized to his specific tastes. He had posters in his room. Of actors and football players. He had pictures of his friends taped to his walls. 

There's a few of him and Penny taking trips to museums and one to an aquarium. She loved taking him places, reminding him that the world was so much bigger than just what he knew. Which was terrifying and freeing. Penny was planning on taking him the next time she went to visit Micah in America. 

He pushed Baz onto the bed, which was still fairly warm from his nap earlier, and flopped down next to him. They were facing each other. Legs intertwined. Baz slid his arms around Simon again, rubbing at the base of his devil tail. It was surprisingly more sensitive than he originally thought it was, but Penny’s dad said that it was because he had gotten more acquainted with it. Baz loved it. 

“Knock it off, Baz,” he whined, trying to ignore the laughter bubbling up in his chest. 

He smiled devilishly at him. “Do something for me in return, Snow. Then I’ll stop.” 

Simon growled and rolled over until he was leaning over Baz, his hands framing his head. He dived right in and gave him a purposeful kiss. His wings started spreading out a little subconsciously, almost protecting them from any prying eyes.

He felt Baz whimper and pull away, murmuring a wandless spell that would lock Simon’s bedroom door. Penny would die on the spot if she had to see what they were doing. And while the noises might deter her, she wasn’t afraid of stopping a snogging session to tell them something they needed to know. 

  
~~~~~~

It was nearly four pm when Simon woke up. Baz was practically laying his full body on top of his, long hair tickling Simon’s chest. They were much less clothed than they were that afternoon. He admired the marks spread across his neck and trailing down his collarbones. Baz may have hangups about using teeth, but Simon didn’t. 

Penny didn’t interrupt their time, but she was probably fuming on the couch. “It’s not fair that you get to have your alone time with your boyfriend whenever you please but I don’t Simon,” she’d complain whenever they showed PDA. But when their displays of affection were contained to Simon’s locked room, there wasn’t much she could do about it. So she’d just quietly be annoyed about them. 

Didn’t help that the marks showed up especially dark on Baz’s pale skin, or that he liked to flaunt them in the apartment with dress shirts unbuttoned a little. Simon kind of thought he liked giving Penny the incentive to tease him for it because he loved to challenge her verbally. Not with the same familiarity or fondness that he gave when he and Simon got into it. 

Simon felt Baz stirring on top of him and watched with a dumb grin on his face as he opened his eyes to look at him. 

“Were you watching me sleep, Snow?” He propped himself up a little and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Haven’t done that since fifth year, yeah?” 

“I _was_ enjoying quite a spectacular view,” he murmured against Baz’s brow, pressing soft kisses there. 

Baz rolled over onto his back to stretch out his limbs. “I am absolutely famished. Takeout?”

“Sure. Indian?” 

“I was thinking more Chinese, but we can get curry if you want.” 

Simon sat up, slipped on the pair of pants closest to him, and went over to his desk, where he kept a pile of menus for takeout. He brought them back to the bed and grabbed his cellphone. Baz was still in bed, but sitting up against the headboard. The blankets exposed his chest and gathered together at his navel to cover the lower half of him. He rolled his eyes, feeling acutely aware of the fact that he was probably staring at his behind just moments before. 

The order went smoothly. Simon hung up and pounced on top of Baz.

“You know,” he started, affectionately rubbing his cheek into the warm chest in front of him. “I do love you.” 

A hand reached his curls, not to pull through, just to touch. Baz could never get him to melt quite like Simon could do to him, but damn, if he didn’t try his hardest. Sometimes he didn’t respond when Simon said that— _“I love you.”_ Said it didn’t feel real. Once, after a long night of drinking, Baz fully told him why. 

_“I’m scared, Snow, that if I say it, you’ll disappear. That I’ll wake up in my bed at Watford with a problem between my legs and full of shame. That it was just a hallucination and I’m delirious from being in a coffin for six weeks. It really scares me.” He swallowed hard and looked at Simon straight. Despite the liquor flushing his cheeks, he looked stone-cold sober. “But I do. Feel that way about you. You’ve always been my world, Simon, from the day we were cast together at eleven years old.”_

The night had ended in a drunken snog before they fell asleep, not waking until late afternoon the next day. 

This time, though, Baz hummed loudly, squeezing Simon closer to him tightly and inhaling the smell of his shampoo. It’s intimate and he’s sure Baz can feel his heart throb. He wondered if he could always hear the blood pounding through his veins. Baz strained his neck to meet Simon halfway and kiss him. Then he goes the extra mile to press a kiss against every mole on his jaw and neck. 

Simon didn’t have the hearing abilities Baz had. Not by a long shot. But there was no denying the sound and feel of Baz murmuring against his skin, face hidden from his eyes. And thank Circe for that, because Simon felt his eyes water at the statement. 

_“Love you too, Simon.”_

And he hugged him even tighter. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, and constructive criticism are appreciated :)


End file.
